


The End

by London_Halcyon



Category: Murdered: Soul Suspect
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Murder Mystery, Paranormal, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18611353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_Halcyon/pseuds/London_Halcyon
Summary: A rewrite of the ending of Murdered: Soul Suspect with the point-of-view centered around Joy.





	1. Detour

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story that I wrote several years ago. Because of that, I'm not planning on editing it, and it is posted here solely for those that might find it interesting.

So it was true. Your life really could flash before your eyes. At least Joy's started to before the Bell Killer clamped a damp rag over her nose and mouth. When that happened, all she could think about was how the hell she had even gotten in this situation in the first place.

 

"I told you to drop the crazy act back at the church!" Rex growled, his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror.

"You have to believe me! I really have talked with Ronan! I'm telling the truth!" Joy begged. She hated begging, but she was running out of options. No. She was out of options.

"I don't know how you know about Ronan and Julia, but bringing the names of my family into this won't help you!"

She had to bite her tongue. He wasn't going to believe her. Why would he? No one ever did. Everyone who knew about her thought she was crazy. Even most of the other officers didn't believe her mom. Ronan was wrong. There would be no help from the police. They were going to lock her up—if not in jail, then certainly in Lux Aeterna.

She looked around the car, looking for someway to escape. It was just a normal sedan, not a police car, so no bars separated her from her scowling driver. Rex had also been generous enough to leave her window down and her hands un-cuffed. But how did that help? She couldn't attack him—not without endangering herself and adding assault to her already tainted rap sheet. And jumping out the window of a moving car didn't seem like a better alternative.

Frustrated, she tried speaking again. "I'm not the one that needs help! The Bell Killer is going after mediums! He's going after my mom! If you don't listen to me, someone else will die soon!"

Something changed in the air, almost unnoticeably. The night seemed darker. The hairs on her arms stood up. It felt like she was watching a wave from a distance. She could see it building and, though it was currently silent, she knew in a moment it would all come down with a loud crash.

Rex seemed unaware of the change. "Now you listen—"

With a _whoosh!_ a biting blast of wind shot through her open window. Joy threw her hands up to protect her face. Rex let out a surprised shout. The car lurched and the tires squealed angrily. She felt certain she was going to die.

Everything went silent. Slowly, she uncovered her face. The car was driving straight on the road, and Rex's hands were steady on the wheel. If it wasn't for the smell of burnt rubber wafting through the window, then she might have thought that she had imagined the whole thing.

Still trying to get her heart out of her throat, Joy asked nervously, "Lieutenant? Are you alright?"

"Fine," he said, his voice strangely calm. With one hand, he pushed a button near the wheel. Her window rolled up.

Apprehension welled up inside her. This wasn't right. She had to get out of here.

A glance out the window revealed the sight of the tower that marked the location of the police station. They were close. Maybe if they could just get to the station...

The car turned in a different direction.

Not wanting to believe what was happening, she asked, "Uh, wasn't the station the other way?"

In the same strange tone, Rex said, "We're taking a slight detour."

"Where?"

In the rear view mirror, she could see a smile touch his lips, like she had said something funny. "You'll see."

Joy really, really didn't want to see.

They didn't go much further before he pulled the car over into an abandoned parking lot. The nearby streetlights were out. How convenient.

Rex killed the engine and twisted around to face her. "Stay put. There's about a half hour of preparations left, and I can't have you getting away again." With that, he opened the door and got out. The trunk popped open.

Joy fruitlessly tugged at her own door, even though she had already found out a long time ago that it was locked. She peered out the window, looking for anyone that might be close enough to help. A large, dark building rose up before the car. A jolt of recognition shot through her. It was the museum.

No. That couldn't be their destination. Surely it was only a coincidence.

Rex opened the driver's side door again. He pushed a button. With an audible thunk, the lock on Joy's door released.

She didn't hesitate. She threw open the door and shot out of the car. Her feet flew over the pavement. There was a well-lit area just up ahead. If she could make it, then she could find somebody. She was so close. She could make it. She could make it.

Something roughly grabbed the collar of her jacket and yanked her backwards. Large arms encircled her. "You little troublemaker," a voice hissed in her ear.

"No! Let me go!" she screamed. She thrashed in his arms, but she might as well have been attempting to fight a boa constrictor.

A cloth damp with a foul smelling liquid was thrust over her nose and mouth. Her throat and nose burned. She tried not to breathe in, but couldn't keep herself from gasping. Her vision began to dim. The world started spinning. She felt her muscles relax.

In one last coherent moment, she thought, _Ronan, where are you?_ And then the darkness engulfed her.


	2. Escape

Joy drifted in a hazy world of nightmares. She could neither hear nor see, but she could feel the emotions. Along with her own fear, she could feel the terror, despair, and hatred of others. Above all was the hatred. It was a living monster, eager to destroy all that lay in its path. Starting with her.

A pungent smell cut through the darkness. It burned her nose and filled her lungs. She coughed violently, abruptly sitting up. The motion caused her head to start spinning again. Her mouth was dry, and there was a bad taste in it. Her eyes watered from the smoke that was carrying the strange smell. She could see a blurry figure through the tears, but the whole world tilted when she tried to focus. She felt sick.

"Please don't throw up," a deep voice said. "The smell would ruin the moment."

She closed her eyes, waiting until the world steadied itself again. She tried to take a deep breath, but had another coughing fit instead.

"Sorry to wake you," the voice said tauntingly, "but we only have a limited amount of time until this draws attention. And I hate being interrupted."

Joy carefully tested her limbs. When she tried to move her arms and legs, they were restricted; something cut into them. She slowly opened her eyes. Thick hemp rope tightly bound her wrists and ankles. She lay on a hard wooden surface. She blinked and focused on the odd breaks in the planks that made up the floor. A lever stood nearby. Why would there be a trapdoor in the floor?

A realization suddenly dawned on her. Her gaze flicked upwards. Like a dark omen, she couldn't breathe. A necklace of rope swayed gently above her head. She was lying on the gallows at the museum.

The figure next to her chuckled. She looked to see a giant man wearing a dark hoodie and dirty gloves. He smiled maliciously.

"You're the Bell Killer," she said faintly.

Rex's smile only widened. His eyes glittered dangerously.

"Who are you?"

The thing that wore Rex's face chuckled again. "Of course. You've never seen me before. But I bet you've heard of me. I fill your history books, your newspapers—even if you don't know it. They've even made a few movies about me. In all of them I died, which is true, but I was never gone. I made a promise that as long as I exist, every witch in Salem will receive her punishment. I've kept that promise for centuries, and I intend to keep it for many years to come." The Bell Killer leaned closer. "My name is Abigail Williams."

Abigail Williams. One of the primary accusers of the Salem Witch Trials. "Witch killer," Joy accidentally whispered aloud.

Rex looked amused. "I prefer judge, but equally accurate."

"Why me?" she cried. "I haven't done anything. I didn't ask for any of this."

Rex's expression hardened, and he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, hauling her to her feet. "There are some things we don't intentionally ask for. Life seems cruel or unfair. But that doesn't mean that some don't deserve those things. You see, it's not a matter of what you want; it's a matter of justice."

"What about Father McCauley?" she demanded. "Did he deserve what happened to him?"

"The priest? He harbored not one but two witches. I won't say I didn't enjoy breaking his neck."

Abigail's words felt like a punch to the gut. Joy could barely breathe. The person before her had killed so many people, even ones she had seen or knew. Sophia, Rose, Ronan, Father McCauley, and probably Iris too—Abigail had killed them all. And now Joy was next.

Rex put one hand on the rope and examined it. "Did you know that the noose has to fit its victim perfectly? If it doesn't, the person dies either too quickly or too slowly. While I'll admit I wouldn't mind watching you slowly choke over the course of several hours, we're on a bit of a tight schedule." He winked at her. "So why don't we find a balance in between?"

Joy tried to fight the panic rising inside her. She had to do something. She didn't want to die. Not like this. She tried to struggle, but Rex's grip was too tight. She resorted to stalling. "You won't get away with this," she said with what she hoped didn't sound like false confidence. "He'll stop you."

Rex gave her a bemused look. "Who? The dead cop?" He laughed. "What can he do? That fledgling ghost can barely possess a cat. He's had his abilities for less than one night. I've had mine for three centuries. Your hope in him is misplaced."

"You'll see." In truth, Joy wasn't so sure. Ronan was off chasing a lead. He didn't even know where she was.

"It doesn't matter. Consider tonight the grand finale. After this, when both you and this host are dead, I'm taking a break until I'm needed again. You should be honored, especially since you get the pleasure of dying like I did."

When Joy didn't respond, Abigail continued. "It was a shame I couldn't get your mother. She somehow slipped outside of my reach. I suppose I can still find a suitable host to create an accident for her. It should be easy enough when she returns to Salem for your funeral."

Joy's eyes widened—first with the realization that her mom was alive and second with horror at what Abigail was saying. "No!"

Rex smirked at her, and that's when she realized her mistake. Abigail had succeeded in distracting her, not the other way around. During their conversation, Joy had stopped trying to escape. Rex released her, but it didn't matter. The noose was ready for her neck.

Joy tried to take a step back, but nearly lost her balance due to the rope tied around her ankles. She tilted her head back at the man towering over her. There was nowhere to run. She was trapped.

"Joy!" a new but very familiar voice called.

She looked past the Bell Killer to see him standing across the large room near the way to the entrance of the museum. He had found her after all. "Ronan, help!" she cried.

Rex grabbed her again, turning to face the other ghost. "Not," he ordered, "another step."

Almost too softly for Joy to hear, Ronan said, "No. Not you, Rex." Then, more clearly, "This has nothing to do with her, Abigail." Abigail? Ronan knew. He had solved the case.

"Oh, but it does," the Bell Killer said. "For three hundred years we have executed the witches who corrupt our fair city. Those who try to mask their demonic contract and leverage powers they should never possess."

Joy pulled against his grip again with little success. This guy was crazy!

Ronan's face revealed he wasn't happy with Abigail's explanation either. "Just like you have."

"Don't you dare compare me to her!" Rex roared, violently shaking Joy. She let out a little cry of terror.

Ronan put his palms out placatingly. "Easy, easy!"

Heavy footsteps echoed on the museum floor. Two security guards ran out of the hallway behind Ronan. They had their guns out. "Put your hands up!" one of them ordered.

"Help!" Joy called, making sure they knew she was a victim in this.

Ronan narrowed his eyes. "Don't do anything stupid." It took her a moment to realize he was talking to Abigail.

The guards stopped just before the foot of the gallows, one slightly behind the other. They pointed their guns at Rex. "Hands up! Stop what you're doing!" Rex didn't move. "Hands up! Do it now!" They were going to shoot him, which would do nothing to Abigail. All she had to do was to find another host...like one with a gun.

Rex abruptly cried out and dropped to his knees, letting go of Joy in the process. Joy stumbled, suddenly unsupported, and fell to her knees as well.

She sensed Abigail's presence leave Rex's body.

"Abigail, stop!" Ronan exclaimed.

The guard furthest from the gallows turned his gun on his partner. With a deafening crack, he shot the other guard in the head. Before the body hit the ground, he put the barrel to his own head and pulled the trigger. _Crack!_ Both guards slumped lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling around them. Joy was frozen with horror.

A blue blur shot from the murderous guard back to Rex. In a swift motion, Rex rose to his feet and grabbed Joy by the scruff once again, yanking her back to her feet.

"Rex, you little piece of shit," Ronan swore, taking a step forward.

Rex raised his free hand in the air.

"What are you doing?" Ronan demanded.

A black oily substance spurted up from the ground and began to spread out in front of the ghost. A deep red light shone from its depths and black mist swirled through the air. Clawed, withered hands reached out of the substance and grasped at the air. Horrible sounds—inhuman hisses, growls, and moans—accompanied it.

It was a Pit of Lost Souls. And it now separated Ronan from Joy.

"Not now..." Ronan muttered, moving safely away. "This was you."

Rex, now looking quite unamused with the other ghost's presence, murmured, "Didn't want you getting closer to the truth."

He turned to face Joy directly. Grabbing the noose in one hand, he slipped it over Joy's head. It was a hurried gesture, so it went on awkwardly. She felt the rope rubbing against the back of her ears. She tried to pull back, but it refused to come off as easily as it went on.

Feeling panic beginning to take over, she shouted, "Ronan, do something!"

"Hold tight, kid. I'm on my way," Ronan called.

Joy's heart pounded in her ears, and she continued to struggle to no avail. She stared at the Bell Killer in terror as he made a few adjustments to the rope. Ronan wouldn't make it in time. He was across the room, the Pit preventing him from making any quick progress. Even if he could get to her, what could he do? As she had pointed out time and time again, he was dead.

Rex gave a satisfied smirk. They were out of time.

Joy felt a cold presence enter her body. Startled, she threw up her mental defenses, ready to expel it, before she realized it was Ronan. She forced herself to relax her mind and let him in.   
She felt him quickly sort through a few thoughts before pushing one to the surface. Through the mess that was her panic and drug-addled brain, he made one thing clear. Scream.

Still smirking, Rex put his hand on the lever.

Joy closed her eyes. And she screamed.

Tapping into every bit of power she had, she balled it up and forced it out. She screamed, throwing it all at the monster before her. She screamed until her throat was beyond hurting, until she was sure the glass would shatter.

She heard a grunt and a thud. In the back of her mind, she could feel Ronan struggling to hang on. It was torture for him, but he wasn't letting go. He wasn't leaving her.

She felt pressure on her throat. It took her a moment to realize she was leaning into the noose. She stopped screaming. Her head spun and she swayed on her feet. She panted. It felt like she had swallowed a cup of nails.

Ronan slipped out of her body. She heard his voice next to her. "It's over, Abigail."

Joy managed to get her vision to focus. Rex lay unconscious on the ground next to the lever. A young ghost girl with twin braids and an old-fashioned dress stood some distance away, out of range of Joy's scream.

The girl looked very, very mad.

Joy watched the girl's eyes dart from Rex to the lever to her. She could feel the ghost's sense of loathing from where she stood. Abigail's expression said, _You are_ so _beyond dead._

Ronan charged Abigail and roughly grabbed her arm. Suddenly, both ghosts looked around wildly in surprise. Abigail's expression became one of horror. Ronan's of interest.

"You want to use my memories against me?" Abigail snarled. "Two can play at that game."

With her free hand, she clamped down on Ronan's arm. The older ghost's eyes glazed over, but he didn't let go. Abigail might've been powerful, but Ronan was still bigger and stronger. And he could actually touch her. That made a big difference.

The noose rubbed painfully against Joy's neck. Her heart was still racing. She didn't know how long Ronan could keep Abigail occupied. She had to move.

Joy lifted her bound hands and tried to tug the rope over her head. It caught at her chin, refusing to budge. Awkwardly, she lifted her hands higher and reached behind her head. She felt for the knot, her fingers brushing it. Maybe she could loosen the rope. She tried to un-work the knot, but her fingers kept slipping from it. It didn't help that her hands were shaking. After a few tries, she gave up with a cry of frustration.

She vaguely registered the two ghosts shouting in the background. From what she could gather, Ronan was demanding answers regarding his death and everything else Abigail had done.   
Joy forced herself to take a deep breath. She gripped the rope once again in her hands and tugged on it. It scraped against her skin. She leaned backwards. The rope pulled on her ears. She took another breath and, still pulling on the noose with her hands, put all her weight into it. For a moment it only dug further into her skin. Then the rope painfully ripped past her ears and chin, and she fell on her butt—hard.

She stared in shock at the noose swinging wildly above her. She had done it. She was free.

Or not quite. She was still trapped on the gallows, the rope that bound her making it impossible to run.

She started on her tied ankles in case she suddenly had to move. However, her shaking hands gave her the same problem as before. When carefully working on the knot failed, she clawed furiously at the rope and kicked her legs, desperate to be unrestricted. Miraculously, the rope loosened, and a loop slipped off her foot. Joy ripped the rest off and tossed it as far from her as it would go.   
She moved on to her wrists. Thankfully, they were much looser. With some help from her teeth, she managed to slip the rope off her hands. She tossed that away as well.

"No. I wouldn't."

Joy looked to see Ronan taking a step back from Abigail. His expression was one of horrified disbelief.

Abigail smirked.

"No...no. I wouldn't," Ronan repeated. "How could I—" He broke off, his features contorting with anger. "You made me kill her," he growled.

Ronan stepped menacingly towards Abigail. The ghost girl's smirk vanished to be replaced by wide-eyed fear. She stepped back. Ronan stepped forward again. Abigail smiled wickedly. Ronan hesitated, but it was too late—he had taken the bait.

Abigail raised her arms. Black liquid pooled around Ronan's feet and red light shone on him like a spotlight. Withered hands wrapped themselves first around his legs and then his torso. Two more grabbed his shoulders, slowly dragging him into the depths.

Ronan looked at the ghost standing before him. "If I'm going out, you're coming with me!" he snarled. With that, he lunged for Abigail.

He swiftly grabbed the girl, causing her to topple into the Pit with him. The hands eagerly grabbed her as well. "No! Let me go!" she cried.

Ronan got a grip on stable ground with his hands and struggled to claw his way out of the Pit. Abigail wasn't so lucky.

The grasping hands swarmed the girl, pulling her down. She didn't go down easily. She climbed and kicked her way back to the surface, but more hands latched onto her. One hissing, clawed hand grabbed her face. And the whole time she was screaming—screaming in terror. It was an inhuman, guttural scream, one a person might make if they thought they were going to die. Or worse.

Joy closed her eyes. She couldn't watch.

Abruptly, the museum went silent. The only sound Joy could hear was her own heart pounding in her ears. Then there was a grunt.

She opened her eyes again. Both the Pit and Abigail were gone. Another grunt sounded, coming from Ronan, who was struggling to rise from where he lay on his stomach.

The skin on her neck was raw. She put her fingers gently to her throat and looked at the noose again. It was still swinging, leisurely moving back and forth. That had been so close. For a second she had thought...

She brought her gaze downward, not wanting to think about it. Ronan stood in front of her at the foot of the gallows, looking at her concern. He was breathing heavily. It took her a moment to realize she was panting too. A coughing fit suddenly came over her, and she rubbed her throat, feeling like it was being torn apart.

Her gaze fell on Rex and a jolt of terror shot through her. She took a breath. No. He had only been a host. Abigail was gone.

Rex briefly stirred, moving his head and placing a hand on his chest, but he otherwise remained unconscious. Joy didn't blame him. To have a ghost ripped unwillingly from your body was a rather painful experience.

"Joy." With an effort, she pulled her gaze back to Ronan. "Are you alright?"

No, she was not alright. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were all chafed. Her tailbone was bruised and her throat hurt like hell from screaming. She still felt woozy from whatever she had been given. She had been condemned as a witch, drugged, and nearly hung. If you wanted to go even further back than that, there was the fact that Father McCauley was dead because of her. She was hurt and scared and just wanted to go home. She wanted her mom.

Except home was a crime scene and her mom was missing.

"Ronan." It came out as an embarrassing whimper.

He moved closer to her. "Deep breaths, Joy."

She closed her eyes and did as he said.

"You know," Ronan said, "I managed to get a message to your mom. She should be on her way to the station right now."

Joy nearly burst into tears of relief. Her mom was coming for her.

"Now, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

She looked at the ghost in front of her and then at the two dead security guards behind him. She swallowed painfully and quickly looked down at her hands. She couldn't see through them at least. She was still alive. Right now, that was all that mattered.

"I...I'm..." She struggled to speak, her throat raw. "I'm fine," she finally croaked. "Just don't ask me to sing anytime soon."

Ronan gave a small smile at her halfhearted attempt at a joke. He also looked relieved, like it was a sign the Bell Killer hadn't replaced her with a new person. "That was one hell of a scream. You did good, kid."

She let out a breath, her heart rate finally beginning to slow a bit. "I thought we were both goners."

He chuckled. "So did I."

"How'd you find me?"

"Judgement House—the Killer's hideout. It was all there. It was the place where Abigail faced judgement right before she was—" He broke off, but she saw his eyes linger on the noose. "Anyway, I knew if the Bell Killer had you, this is where you would be taken."

"I guess I owe you. Again."

"How 'bout you wait a while before paying me back. A really long while."

"I could live with that."

He grinned. "Please do."

A grunt brought Joy's attention back to Rex. The lieutenant was struggling to sit up. Propping himself up with one hand, he put the other to his head and winced. He blinked a few times, as if trying to focus. When he noticed Joy, his eyes widened in surprise.

Rex leaned forward and reached a hand out to her. "Are you al—"

Joy flinched and tried to draw away from him, panic rising again.

"Easy," Ronan soothed. "He's fine."

Rex looked confused at her reaction. "I'm not going to—"

He broke off at the sight of the gloved hand he had stretched out in front of him. He examined it in surprise. He then looked down at the dark hoodie he wore. "What...?"

His gaze whipped back to Joy, lingering on her throat. His eyes traveled upward, stopping on the now still noose. He then looked back at Joy, then back at his hoodie, and finally at the lever he sat next to. He swore loudly.

Joy pulled her legs to her body and rested her head on her knees. Taking deep breaths, she silently counted to ten. When she reached ten, she lifted her head and looked at Rex, who looked quite unsure what to do. "Do you believe me now?" she asked as calmly as possible.

Rex appeared overwhelmed. "What happened? What's going on?"

"You promise you'll try to believe me?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think I have many options."

So Joy did her best to explain. She repeated some of the things she had told him in the car and then told him what had happened since they were first attacked. Ronan helped her by giving her more details about the Bell Killer. She told the truth, though the look on Rex's face said he still wasn't buying it.

Rex shook his head. "I'm sorry, but this is crazy. You're saying I was possessed by a ghost who thinks mediums are witches and was using me to execute them as such."

"You, Baxter, and...Ronan."

"And you honestly expect me to believe that?"

Joy huffed in exasperation. "And you have a better explanation?"

His expression said, _That you're crazy._ But he simply shook his head again.

"Ronan, help me out here!" she hissed to the ghost next to her.

"Okay, okay," Ronan said quickly, indicating he had an idea. "Tell him this." He listed a bunch of random dates, locations, and names. When she hesitated, he said, "Just do it."

She did as she was told and repeated the strange information.

Rex's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?" he growled.

"I...I don't know what it means. He just told me to say it."

"That's impossible. No one knows that except—" He broke off, looking uncertain. Finally, he sighed. "I'm losing my mind," he muttered. And then, "Ronan?"

Ronan let out a breath. "Yeah, I'm still here, bro. Took you long enough to figure it out. I thought we were gonna run out of time."

Joy began to relay, but stopped as the last of his words sunk in. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"It's a miracle the cops haven't showed up yet. And when they do, that explanation of yours won't work on them. You two," he gestured between Joy and Rex, "need to come up with a story. Fast." He glanced around. "I'll be right back."

"What? Where are you going?" Joy cried.

"I'm gonna check for cameras. Make sure nothing was caught on tape."

She glanced quickly from Ronan to Rex and back again, suddenly feeling distressed.

Ronan gazed at her patiently, which was probably a stretch. "We don't have much time. You'll be fine." With that, he turned around and strode off.

Rex looked uncomfortable. "Is he gone...?"

Joy took what was likely her millionth deep breath in the past hour. "Yeah. Checking for cameras. He told us to work something out."

"Work something...?" Rex glanced at his hoodie again. And swore loudly. Again. "How the hell am I gonna explain this? I have no alibi—not for any of the last few murders. And who knows what they'll find if they search my car or my house. I'm gonna end up cell, whether it has bars or padded walls."

"Great. I'll meet you there," Joy said sarcastically.

He gave her a startled look, as though surprised by her words. He then glanced around the room. "Do I try to run?"

Though his words didn't seem to be directed at her, she still shook her head. "Not enough time. Besides, it will only make you look more guilty."

He chuckled without humor. "I look guilty enough as it is. My career's definitely going out the window."

"Oh, yes. Giving up. That's the perfect way to solve a problem."

"I'm not—" he began angrily before breaking off. He looked at her appraisingly. "Alright, cat burglar. You're the expert. Tell me what to do."

Joy crossed her legs. "You cops haven't found any leads on the Bell Killer, right? No evidence pointing to who he might be?"

Rex nodded in confirmation.

"If Ronan is right that everything is at Judgement House and if Abigail actually went through hosts as fast as she claimed, then there shouldn't be anything at your house. That means you being here is the only evidence so far. We just have to discredit it." Her thoughts buzzed. She leaned forward slightly, finding comfort in the problem solving.

"We?"

"Yeah, we. I'm the only living witness. My word is pretty much the only thing that can keep you out of jail."

"What? So you're willing to just lie? You do realize what you're saying, don't you?"

She gave him a small smile. "Hey, two accounts of trespassing and one account of felony escape, remember? And that's just the stuff you caught me doing. I blew my get out of jail free card years ago. Another mark on my record won't make a difference."

"You know that's not true."

Joy did in fact know, but it didn't really matter. If she was cruel, then she would tell the cops exactly what Rex had tried to do, whether he was in control or not. But that would be wrong. She wasn't cruel, and she knew he was innocent. She also owed Ronan a great deal. He had saved her life twice, something she could never repay him personally. But she could repay him through Rex: by saving the life of his family.

"Are you gonna accept my help or not?"

Rex continued to give her an appraising look. "Go on."

"Half-truths and whole lies. Stick as close to the truth as possible. Only change small details. It's easier and more believable that way. The fact that we were both unconscious for a lot of it gives us an excuse to leave stuff out. We should be able to get away mostly on lying by omission. But lie through your teeth if you have to."

He raised an eyebrow and then laughed softly. "You do have this figured out. You sure about this?"

"Yeah, but just so we're clear, I'm not doing this for you. This is for Ronan and no one else."

He seemed faintly surprised, but then he nodded approvingly. "Alright. Let's be quick then."

So they did their best to come up with a story. Following Joy's plan, it didn't take long. They agreed that they would stick to the fact that Rex only "woke up" at the end of it, so she would be doing most of the recounting to the police. He would only add a few details that would match her version of the events. In the end, there was nothing they could do but hope for the best.

Ronan showed back up just as they were double checking their individual roles. He gave them his "detective's approval."

"Did you find anything?" Joy asked.

Ronan gestured with his hand, which somehow still had a cigarette in it. "We're good. For a museum, this place has surprisingly terrible security."

Footsteps echoed in the entranceway. Voices whispered harshly.

"And we're out of time," Ronan said. He glanced at Joy and Rex and frowned. "Quickly, get closer."

"What?" Joy hissed.

"Rex saved you, right? Act like it. Hurry."

Joy gritted her teeth, not wanting to get closer to the person who had tried to kill her, but now wasn't the time to argue. She scooted over to Rex's side. "You're on, white knight. Comfort me."

Rex's eyes shone with understanding. He put a hand on her shoulder. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, finding it embarrassingly easy to play the distressed maiden.

She felt his hand gently squeeze her shoulder. "You're still shaking," he murmured.

Like she thought: embarrassing.

Flashes of movement near the hall to the entrance caught her eye. She wanted to run. Normally she would run. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her freedom. There would be no second chances—no way to escape. But something held her in place, so she simply waited instead.

Four police officers hurried into the room, though much more cautiously than the two security guards. Two approached the gallows, their guns trained on Rex. The other two hung back slightly, alert for danger as their gazes swept the room. They briefly faltered at the sight of the Bell Killer's final murders.

"SPD!" the one on point announced. "Put your hands up! Back away from the girl!"

"Wait, I'm not—" Rex began.

"I said hands up! Now!"

Rex did as he said and slowly lifted his hands above his head. He pulled away from Joy.

Joy quickly grabbed his arm and held her other hand out towards the cops. "You're making a mistake! This isn't the Bell Killer!"

"Miss," the lead officer said sternly, "I need you to—" He broke off in surprise. "What the hell? Lieutenant?"

The other three exchanged startled glances.

"This isn't what it seems," Rex said. "I haven't done anything. I'm not the Killer."

"It's true," Joy said. "He saved me. The real Killer is somewhere else."

The officers, who had all stopped a safe distance away, didn't lower their weapons, but they looked uncertain.

"Sir, we're still going to have to detain you," the leader said.

"Of course," Rex responded calmly. He gently shook Joy off.

As the lead officer stepped forward, the one nearest to him hissed, "What are you doing? We were ordered not to approach him."

"And who gave us that order?" the leader hissed back.

The second officer looked overwhelmed. "Oh, man. This is bad."

Warily, the first two officers stepped onto the gallows while the other two kept their guns pointed at Rex from a distance. One swiftly cuffed him. They looked even more uncertain when nothing happened.

A radio crackled. "Johnson, report. What's going on in there?"

The lead officer grabbed the mic on his shoulder. "Suspect detained, but there's been a complication."

"What complication? What do you mean?"

"Sarge, I think you need to see for yourself."

There was silence for a moment. Then, "I'm on my way."

The two men farthest from the gallows lowered their weapons. One kneeled before the two security guards.

The other grabbed his radio. "We need to get an ambulance here. Now."

The kneeling one shook his head. "It's no use. They're both dead."

The officer let go of the mic on his shoulder. "Shit," he spat.

Joy shivered. She had known they were dead. She had felt the lack of the energy that living things normally put out, but it was different hearing it said aloud.

Three more officers entered the room with weapons out, but pointed at the ground. One was a balding man with a white uniform shirt—a sergeant. Another was a dark-skinned officer Joy recognized as Robinson. She didn't know the third.

When they got closer to the gallows, Robinson swore.

"My God. Rex?" the sergeant said. "What the hell happened here?"

"Stewart, it's not what it looks like," Rex said. "This isn't...you know I would never do this."

The sergeant looked conflicted. His eyes traveled over Rex's outfit, to the noose, and to Joy.

"You can believe him," Joy said tiredly. She just wanted out of this situation. When Stewart gave her an uncertain look, she added, "Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?"

For what felt like an eternity, no one moved. No one spoke.

Finally, Stewart shook his head. "This isn't the place. We can sort everything out at the station. Quickly, before the crowd outside gets too large. Johnson, tell them to double the efforts to keep people back. Move cars—block the view of the entrance. And keep the goddamned press away."

Johnson nodded and began speaking into his mic. The other officer took control of Rex, looking tense as his prisoner got to his feet.

Stewart frowned. "Put his hood up."

"Sir?" the officer asked.

"Just do it. Until we figure out exactly what is going on, no one knows about this."

The officer hesitated, but did as his superior said. Rex vanished, and the Bell Killer stood in his place.

Stewart swore under his breath. Joy looked away. The faceless hooded figure looked like something from her nightmares.

Except she was wide awake.

Ronan spoke, abruptly reminding her he was there. "Good thing loyalties die hard."

She felt certain Rex would agree.

Robinson walked over to her. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"

She nodded.

"Then up we go." He slipped his hands under her arms and easily picked her off the gallows, placing her on her feet on the ground. She stumbled, and he grabbed hold of one of her arms to keep her from falling.

"I'm f—" she attempted to begin quickly, which her throat did not tolerate. She coughed weakly. "I'm fine." She tugged her arm away from Robinson. "I just want out of here."

Robinson looked at her with a hard to read expression before glancing questioningly at the sergeant.

Stewart's expression was also hard to read. "Same case. Have the paramedics check her over first, and then bring her to the station."

The sergeant and two of the officers began to lead Rex to the entrance. Robinson used a hand to gently put pressure on her lower back, indicating for her to follow. Ronan trailed beside them. Johnson and the other two officers remained behind.

Pits of Lost Souls dotted the front lobby. Joy narrowed her eyes, not wanting to see what she was walking through. The air turned unnaturally cold as she passed over them, and she wanted to cover her ears against the noises rasping from them. Ronan zigzagged around the Pits, swearing colorfully at the creatures inside.

A soft curse from Rex brought her attention to what was in front of her. The front doors of the museum lay twisted and broken on the ground. Shattered glass was scattered everywhere, glinting dangerously.

"Watch your step," Robinson said.

"I don't get it," one of the other officers said. "Why didn't the alarm go off?"

No one had an answer. Not a believable one at least.

After picking their way over the glass, they stepped outside into a world of chaos. Sirens whooped, and red and blue lights flashed. Officers shouted to one another and fought to keep civilians back with barriers and yellow tape. People whispered to each other and called out questions. Some snapped pictures with their phones. A group of uniformed men—some police, some not—hurried into the building. Two were pushing gurneys.

Overwhelmed, Joy kept her gaze on the pavement, letting Robinson steer her where she needed to go. She only looked up briefly to catch a glimpse of Rex being shoved into a police car, which promptly took off from the scene.

Somehow she found herself perched on the back end of an ambulance with a female EMT standing before her.

"Hey there, sweetie. I'm just going to check you out, okay?"

Ronan appeared next to her. "Alright, kid. I'm gonna follow Rex to the station. I'll meet you there."

Joy really didn't want him to leave, but there was no way to ask him to stay—not without embarrassing herself. And Ronan wasn't exactly the most sympathetic person. She nodded tiredly.

"Hang in there, kid," he said before trotting off.

"Are you able to tell me if anything hurts?" the EMT asked. "Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?"

"My...my throat."

The EMT put a finger under Joy's chin and gently tilted her head back. The woman gave a sharp intake of breath. Robinson's eyes widened. Joy closed her eyes, wanting for the millionth time for this to be over.

After a bit, the woman removed her hand from beneath her chin. "The skin is raw and it might be a little sore, but there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage." There was a pause. "Is there something wrong with your wrist, sweetheart?"

Joy opened her eyes to realize that she was using one hand to clutch her other wrist.

"Let me see." The woman carefully tugged her glove off, exposing Joy's wrist. Her glove had protected it some from the rope, but her struggle to get free had left the skin irritated and bruised. The woman pulled the other glove off, revealing the same thing on her other wrist. "Can you move them?"

Joy did.

The EMT pursed her lips and handed her gloves back. She then continued to do more tests and ask more questions. Joy's responses became robotic. She was so tired. She didn't even remember the last time she had slept.

"Hey, kid," Robinson said at one point. "Do you know where your mom is?"

She shook her head. "I haven't seen her in days."

"Alright," he said softly. "We'll keep looking then."

"Okay, I think we're done here," the EMT said. "A little shaken up, but she should be fine. She's still responsive, and she's not showing any signs of shock, which is quite impressive in my opinion. I think she just needs time to rest and recover." There was emphasis placed on her last few words.

Robinson nodded and helped Joy to her feet. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here."

"Hey, Robinson! We need you over here!"

He raised a hand in answer and then looked around. His eyes scanned the people bustling around before stopping on something she couldn't see. "McGill!" he called.

A young officer with light, curly brown hair moved their direction, stopping before them. He looked curiously at Joy.

"Can you take this one to the station for me?" Robinson asked.

The officer seemed faintly surprised, though it might've just been her imagination. He flashed her a small smile. "Of course."

Robinson gave her a light push closer to the officer. He began to turn away, but paused. "Oh, and Kai? Keep a close eye on her, will you? It's getting hard to keep track of the AMBER alerts."

Kai nodded and led her to the road where several police cars were parked on the curb with lights flashing. He took her to one parked a little farther away from the museum than the rest. She eyed it warily, not having had good experiences with such cars. The incident today hadn't helped at all either.

Kai grinned. "Not a fan of police cars?" He seemed slightly disappointed when she didn't answer. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be," he murmured. "Well, don't worry. Today you get shotgun." He opened the passenger side door and gestured with a sweeping flourish. "Climb on in, Officer Foster."

She crossed her arms and just barely managed to suppress an eye roll. How old did this guy think she was? But when she heard him chuckle as she got in, she nearly smiled herself.

He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. Pulling away from the curb, he made the sirens whoop, scattering the people still gathered in the street.

"So you're the famous escape artist?" he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "You're gonna have to tell me how you did it. In all my years in and out of police stations, I could never escape a zip tie, much less a holding cell. And look at me now—I still haven't escaped," he joked.

He glanced at her, probably looking for a reaction, but she simply lay her head against the window.

"Okay," he said softly, as if she had spoken.

 


	3. Story

The car slowed down and turned into a parking lot. A boxy building squatted before them. She blinked. They were at the station. They had actually made it. She had never been so happy to see that building in her life. Maybe her mom was already there, waiting for her. It was an uplifting thought.

As Kai opened his door to get out, a sandy-haired officer walked over. "Hey, McGill. You got her?"

Kai stood up. "Yeah. Do I turn her over to you?"

"I'm not sure. Stewart only said to keep an eye out for her. What were you told?"

"Just to bring her to the station. Where's the sergeant now?"

"With..." He lowered his voice. "With Rex. And, man, I'm not interrupting that."

"Okay, then what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Should we put her in a holding cell?"

"What? No." Kai's tone was sharp.

"Well, we can't risk her taking off again."

"And if a holding cell didn't keep that from happening before, then what makes you think it'll work now?"

"If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it."

Joy's hopes instantly plummeted. They didn't know what to do with her. That meant her mom wasn't here.

"One of the empty detective offices. It's quieter there."

"Great. Well, you just volunteered yourself to watch her, because I sure as hell am not. I'm gonna go wait for the sarge to finish. I'll send him your way when he's done." The sandy-haired officer walked off.

Kai shook his head, looking faintly amused. He rounded the car to her side and opened her door. "You coming?"

She nodded and got out.

"I'm pretty sure you knocked the whole station on its side with that stunt of yours," he said with a grin. "Now everyone's too afraid for their careers to be the one to watch you."

Her lips twitched as she tried not to smirk.

With one hand against her back, he led her into the police station. The first floor was a bustle of activity with officers hurrying to and fro. The atmosphere was tense, and it felt like people were only speaking in whispers. It was a relief when they climbed the stairs to the second floor to find it completely deserted.

Kai led her through the dark hallways into a large room filled with desks. There were a bunch of doors with names on them. He stopped before one that was blank. He opened the door and flipped a wall switch. A light came on inside, revealing an office that was bare except for a desk, a swivel chair, a small couch, and a file cabinet. There were no pictures, no decor, no signs of personalization. It was empty. It looked a little sad.

"Hm. Well, this is depressing," Kai said, echoing her thoughts. "But it should be nice and quiet up here, away from all that chaos." When she didn't move, he said, "Go on, have a seat."

She sank down onto the couch. It didn't feel right. The cushions were too comfortable. The silence was too loud. She could feel her heart beating still too fast. She could feel just how scared she still was. She closed her eyes, shivering even though she wasn't cold.

The couch shook, and suddenly something soft enveloped her. She opened her eyes to see Kai sitting next to her, adjusting a blanket around her. She gripped the edges in her hands and pulled it tighter around her, allowing the warmth to comfort her.

"I know you're tired," Kai said gently. "I know you want to close your eyes and have this all be over when you open them again. But if you can just bear with it a little longer, then you can trust me when I say that everything will be easier later."

She made a small scoff, thinking it sounded like a load of BS.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't believe me?"

"Cops will say anything to get you to cooperate with them."

"Ah! She speaks! And what makes you say that?"

She didn't answer, but a particular ghost came to mind.

"Well, you know what I think? I think you are completely right. But that doesn't mean what they say isn't true."

Which is why she actually cooperated with said ghost. And it was exactly what she was counting on now. Because what if Ronan had been lying? What if he hadn't gotten a message to her mom? Or worse, what if he had actually found...

But no, he would tell her if he had found that, wouldn't he? Ronan could be manipulative, but he was also blunt. Unlike the cops, he had told her what had happened with Father McCauley. And during their investigation, he had treated her like an equal most of the time—giving her the facts straight and not thinking to hold anything back. He wouldn't let her stop or back out, even when she was terrified. No one had ever treated her that way before, not even her mom. She appreciated it.

And she hoped he was right.

Kai stood up. "I'll be right back." He hurried out the door, leaving it wide open.

_Idiot,_ she thought. But what was she going to do? Run? She had nowhere to go. She had no home, no family, no friends, no sanctuary—everything was gone.

Little more than five minutes passed before he returned again. There was a mug in his hand. "What's that face?" he asked. "Cheer up!" He handed her the mug.

She curled her hands around it, feeling its warmth. "Don't tell me everything's going to be okay," she grumbled.

He looked at her with an innocent expression. "What? No, of course not! What do you take me for? Though, to be honest, things could be worse."

She just stared at him.

"Right, right. I'm not helping. Just drink your hot chocolate."

She stared suspiciously at the dark liquid in the mug, uncertain if her stomach could handle anything. After lightly blowing at the steam curling up from it, she took a small test sip. It had the overly sweet flavor of the stuff from the packet, but that was quickly balanced out by the strong taste of peppermint. Intrigued, she took a larger sip. It was soothing to her throat as she swallowed, and she felt her nerves settle down.

Kai twirled a small bottle through his fingers. "Peppermint oil," he announced. "Used in aromatherapy, but also edible. Are your lips tingling?"

She put her fingers to her lips, which were in fact tingling in a warm way. Her tongue tingled as well. It was weird feeling, though not necessarily bad.

"Thank you," she murmured, feeling strangely childish.

He gave her a lopsided grin, reminding her of a dog. "It's no problem. It's not often I get to feel useful. Normally they chain me to a desk."

"Yo, McGill! Where are you?"

"One moment, madam," Kai said to Joy. He strode off, walking straight through a whitish-blue figure.

A heavily tattooed figure with a fedora.

"There you are," Ronan said with cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "I was beginning to worry they'd locked you up. But look here, you're being treated like royalty.

"Rex?" she asked.

Ronan hesitated. "They want to believe him, but things don't look good." He blew out a cloud of smoke. "I feel certain that your story should sway them."

The faint scent of cigarette smoke wafted through the air, making her stomach turn. She held the mug closer to her nose, trying to use the peppermint to block out the noxious fumes. "Don't smoke in here," she growled. "It's making me feel sick."

He looked at her in surprise. "You can smell it?"

"Enough."

He harrumphed, but flicked the cigarette away.

"Ronan. Were you telling the truth? Is my mom coming?"

"Mm. I sent Baxter after her, so unless he got eaten by a demon..." Her expression must've said she was in no joking mood because his tone softened. "Yeah, she should be on her way."

She leaned back with a sigh of relief. "Thank God," she breathed.

"Yeah, thank God," he agreed. "I was beginning to think I would be stuck with a bitchy teen for the rest of my afterlife."

She blinked. Was he joking? Would he really have stayed? Surely not.

"Aw, don't look at me like that," he said, turning away. "I would've figured something out."

She didn't know whether to be horrified or grateful.

Kai walked back in. "Heads up. They're coming your way."

She sat up a little straighter. It was almost time.

Kai kneeled down in front of her and held both fists out.

She raised an eyebrow. _Seriously?_

"Humor me," he said.

"Who is this joker?" Ronan asked.

Joy pointed at one of Kai's hands. He opened it. Empty. Then, with that same hand, he brushed an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. He brought it back in front of her for her to see. It was now holding a small object, which he dropped in her free hand.

Her lips twitched. "A cough drop?"

"Well, I normally use coins or flowers, but this is all I had."

Ronan scoffed.

"I could actually use this..." she said, feeling amused.

He made a theatrical twirl of his hand, like he had just finished a grand performance, and sat back down on the couch.

"Wait, wait. I've heard of this guy," Ronan said. "What was his name? Kyle? No, Kai. Kai McGill. Rex talked about him. He's a new officer, only been here a few months. He was a street rat. A pickpocket. He finally got his life turned around, but some idiot messed up expunging his record. Now the whole station knows about him. I guess you can't escape the past no matter where you go, huh?"

Joy studied Kai curiously. He used to be a criminal? She recalled what he had said in the car about his years in and out of police stations. Yet the officer in front of her looked so...so normal.

Her tongue bumped against the ring in her lip. She had stopped trying for normal a long time ago.

Multiple sets of footsteps approached. Sergeant Stewart entered the room, followed by Robinson. Kai started to stand, but Stewart gestured for him to remain seated. Robinson gave Joy a strange look that she couldn't identify.

Stewart grabbed the chair from behind the desk and sat down. He looked tired. "Are you prepared to give an official statement?" he asked her.

She nodded.

Robinson, who remained standing, handed him a small box. It appeared to be some kind of tape recorder.

Stewart pushed a button on the device. "Alright, go ahead. Tell us what you remember."

Joy took a breath, suddenly feeling self conscious, and told him her adapted tale. "As you know, Rex was driving me to the station. That's when we were attacked. There was something in the road—a figure. Rex slammed on the brakes. The figure approached the car. What happened next is kind of a blur. I remember my door suddenly being unlocked. I tried to run for it, but someone grabbed me from behind. A cloth was held to my face. It smelled bad, and I felt dizzy. I think I passed out."

Stewart and Robinson exchanged a glance. Kai shook his head. Ronan huffed.

"When I woke up, everything was fuzzy at first. The ground was hard, and my wrists and ankles were tied. Rex lay unconscious nearby, wearing the Bell Killer's outfit. That's when I realized we were at the gallows at the museum. And standing over me...was the Bell Killer."

"Did you see his face?" Stewart asked.

Joy shook her head. "The real Killer kept his face hidden. He spoke, but I didn't understand a lot of what he said. He ranted about justice and witches and a demonic contract. He thought I was a witch. He bragged about killing Father McCauley and he threatened to track down my mom."

Ronan turned away with a growl. Kai softly swore.

"And the two security guards?" Robinson asked.

"They ran in during the middle of everything. I've never seen anything like it. The Bell Killer moved so fast. He somehow took control of one guard's arm and made him use his gun to...to..." She faltered, unable to say it. "God, the shots were so loud," she said quietly.

Robinson gave her that same strange look. "What happened next?"

"Go on, kid. You got this," Ronan said.

"He slipped the noose over my head. That's about when Rex woke up. I'm not sure what happened. There wasn't exactly a fight. The Killer seemed startled—maybe even spooked. Things apparently weren't going to plan. I used the distraction to get free of the ropes. I can't really describe the next part. It was like the Killer panicked, and then he was just...gone." She took another breath. "That's when you guys showed up."

Ronan gave her an approving nod.

"What? Gone? Just like that?" Stewart asked.

"Yeah, he just kind of vanished. I didn't see where he went."

Stewart and Robinson exchanged another glance. Then Stewart pushed the button on the recorder again and slipped the device into his pocket. "Why were you at the church tonight?" Stewart asked. "You were already on the run from the cops. Why trespass at a crime scene?"

Joy snuck a glance at Ronan. He simply shrugged. Very helpful.

"You're not in trouble," Robinson added. "We just want to know why you did it."

She hesitated. "You promise this is off the record?"

Stewart chuckled without much humor. "Believe me, petty crimes committed by some punk kid are the last thing we're interested in right now."

Ronan nodded, giving her the go ahead.

She searched for words for a moment, not having expected to tell anyone about other events that night. "Father McCauley was my friend," she said finally. "He always helps me out. He has ever since I was little. I was staying at the church tonight. He had been kind enough to give me a place to stay after..." She trailed off, uncertain how much to say.

"After what?" Robinson prompted.

"I was there at my apartment when the Bell Killer showed up. I had thought he was after my mom, not me. He had nearly got me too when Ro...that detective came crashing in. They fought, and the Killer threw the cop out the window. The whole thing freaked me out, so I ran to the church."

"You were a witness," Stewart murmured. "Why not come to the cops?"

"Oh, I did come to the cops. Just not in the way you're thinking."

Robinson shook his head. "You broke into the damn police station. What the hell were you thinking?"

"My mom's been missing for a few days. I was looking for her book, hoping it might tell me where she went."

"Again, why didn't you come to the cops?" Stewart asked.

"Because the cops weren't doing anything!" she snapped. "You already knew she was missing, but you did nothing more than put out a few missing persons fliers. Everyone was too focused on the Bell Killer to worry about one missing psychic that nobody liked. You couldn't even find me when I was staying just a few blocks from the station! So, yeah, I took matters into my own hands."

Everyone in the room looked started by her outburst, including herself. Ronan surprisingly took on a sheepish expression uncharacteristic of the dead cop. None of the officers attempted to defend themselves. She glared at her hot chocolate, which by now had gone cold.

"Just..just..." Stewart tried to begin. He cleared his throat. "Continue."

She quietly scoffed. "I got the book...after an interruption or two."

Kai and Ronan looked amused. Robinson crossed his arms. Stewart muttered something under his breath.

"The book took me all over Salem, but it was just dead end after dead end with regards to my mom. I found nothing."

"Hold up," Robinson said. "You said you were staying at the church. Do you know anything about the girl we found there?"

"Iris?" Ronan quickly drew a finger across his throat, but it was too late; the name had already slipped out. She decided to press. "Is she...?"

Ronan lowered his gaze, confirming it before Robinson answered.

"Iris Campbell is dead."

Joy swallowed. She had known. Like with Father McCauley she had known. No one ever survived a Bell Killer attack. Except Iris had once. She couldn't have helped but to hope that maybe...

Robinson looked suspicious. "Iris was found at the church, but our records say she was supposed to be at the Lux Aeterna Psychiatric Hospital. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"What, like I broke her out? I'm not that crazy," she muttered.

Ronan's lips twitched at her word choice.

"I ran into Iris while I was searching for my mom. She's not...she wasn't crazy—not in the way most people think. She was scheduled for electroshock therapy tonight, so she had to get out of there."

Stewart looked startled. "How'd she escape?"

"I didn't ask," Joy said dryly. In reality, her heart was pounding.

"What is it with these girls?" Robinson muttered.

"She talked about how happy she was to be free," she said softly. "She had been afraid she would never see the outside world again. I invited her to stay in my room at the church with me. I left her with Father McCauley and tried searching for my mom again."

It felt like the temperature in the room had dropped a couple of degrees. Everyone looked grim.

"I was on my way back to the church after another dead end when I heard the sirens. I knew what it meant. I still had to find out, so I trespassed. And Father McCauley..." Her voice broke. He was dead.

She swallowed hard and focused on steadying her breathing. She still couldn't believe it. It felt like he had always been in her life and he would always be there still. But he was just gone... She remembered him just tonight talking about how excited he was to be able to host a wedding. He had joked about Salem needing a little more joy.

A sudden realization hit her. The wedding. There had been more people in the church.

"How many people died?" she asked.

No one answered.

Her heart skipped a beat. "More than two?" she gasped.

"Listen, kid..." Ronan began.

"How many?" she demanded.

Robinson's mouth was a fine line. "As far as we know, five dead. More were sent to the hospital in critical condition."

There was no describing the feeling of horror that overcame her. " _Five?_ " she squeaked. It had been a massacre. There had been no reason for the Bell Killer to even come to the church except to... It was all because...all because... Those people were dead because...

Kai gently tugged the mug from her hands and set it on top of the file cabinet.

She closed her eyes. "It's all my fault," she breathed. "The Killer followed me."

"There was no way you could have known," Kai murmured.

"It's my fault," she repeated with more intensity. "They were murdered because of me. My friends are dead because of me!"

"Joy," Ronan said softly. "It's not your fault. You didn't kill them. If you want to blame anyone, then blame me. I told you to take Iris to the church. I'm the one that nearly got you killed as well."

"You're not a bad kid," Stewart said. He pointed out the window. "That guy out there, he's sadistic. You're not a killer; you're just another victim. Now he, he's the real monster."

"You've been through a lot," Robinson said. "A little survivor's guilt is normal. You'll learn to cope."

"There's nothing wrong with surviving," Kai added.

"Amen to that," Ronan agreed.

She quietly sniffed, and that's when she realized with a shock that she was just seconds from losing it. She blinked rapidly, not wanting to break down in front of the officers. Especially not Ronan.   
With a flick of his wrist, Kai produced a tissue from his sleeve. She accepted it with half amusement and half embarrassment.

"Have you heard enough?" she asked politely.

Stewart nodded and stood up. "I think that's all for now. Wait here."

"Do I have a choice?"

The sergeant and Robinson strode out, closing the door behind them. The door didn't close all the way, remaining open a small crack. It was still open enough to hear the conversation going on outside. The voices were too low to make out who they belonged to, but Joy could tell there were more than just two.

"What do you think?"

"Her story seems to match Rex's, and she seemed to be telling the truth."

"That or she's a damn good actor."

"You don't think she's being threatened, do you?"

"It's possible, but it doesn't make much sense."

"Yeah, suppose Rex is the Bell Killer. He kidnaps a girl and threatens her into making it look like he was framed. Why? There was absolutely no evidence linking him to the murders. He could've vanished and left the country long before we made the connection. Instead he puts himself under suspicion just to attempt to convince us he's innocent? That's way too risky a move for someone who's guilty."

"I agree, but you have to admit that there's a lot going on here that we don't know about."

"Are we absolutely sure she's telling us the truth?"

"There is no 'absolutely sure.' She's a delinquent. There's a good chance she's not telling us everything."

"And she's...I don't know...kind of strange?"

"Strange?"

"I know what you mean. There is something...different about her."

"A lot has happened. We should give her time to rest. We'll call her back in for a pysch eval tomorrow, just in case."

"It is tomorrow, sir."

"Then the day after. I think we all just need a break."

"Have you managed to get ahold of her mom?"

"No. Her phone's either off or dead. We'll keep trying though."

"What do we do with her if we can't contact the profiler? What's the protocol for this kind of thing?"

"No next of kin. No emergency contacts listed. Do we keep her here?"

"This isn't exactly a day care."

"What if her mom never shows? What then?"

"Let's not go that far quite yet. We just have to keep looking."

Kai made an annoyed sound, startling Joy. He stood up and walked out of the room, closing the door tightly behind him. The voices became muffled, and she could no longer hear what they were saying.

Ronan let out a breath. "I think...yeah, I think that's enough. They're not quite convinced, but I wouldn't be in this situation. But I think you did it, kid. Rex might just get off the hook."

She stood up, the blanket sliding off her. A pysch eval? That was just what she had feared. If they got a headshrinker to look at her, then they would know. They would find out that she was different—that she could see things that weren't there. Her story would be discredited, Rex would go to jail, and neither of them would see the outside world again.

"Oh, relax will you? They're not gonna find out you're crazy. Troubled, maybe. Traumatized, most likely. But not crazy."

"Thanks. That's so comforting."

As usual, he ignored the sarcastic remark. "And I guess that leaves me with nothing left to do."

There was a brief moment of silence as the full weight of his words sunk in. Uncertain how to respond, she asked, "Do you know what to do?"

He shrugged casually. "I think I have the gist of it. If not, I'll figure it out. I always do. I figure I'll head back to where it all started...er, ended."

"Right." She shuddered. "I can't believe you died in front of my apartment."

"You say that like it's my fault."

"Yeah, Mr. Bullet Holes, it kinda is."

"Hey, just remember that I saved _you._ "

"Yes, you did," she said softly.

Ronan slowly realized she had lost amusement in the banter. He seemed irritated when he correctly guessed why. "Ah, ah, no, no, no. Don't do what I think you're doing. You're right, this is my fault. I made a mistake; it got me killed. And I don't regret it. Quit blaming yourself."

She scoffed, a noise he was very familiar with.

"Listen. Tell me exactly how this is your fa— No, listen. For just this once, listen. How could you have known some psycho was coming after you? Ah, no, it was impossible, psychic or not."

"My mom knew," she muttered, finally able to get a word in.

"No, your mom thought he might come after her. No one thought you were a target. So if you had no knowledge of what was going on, no desire for anyone to die, and no control over anything, then why are you acting like you killed them with your own hands? No, stop. Don't say you should've known. Unless that gift of yours allows you to see the future with perfect clarity—which I seriously doubt—it was impossible."

Since she apparently wasn't allowed to speak, she crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Oh, quit being stubborn. Look, you're just a kid. No one's expecting you to save the world. Though you did help save the city, which is really something."

"Sure. If you call getting kidnapped and scared out of my wits saving the city, then, yeah, I feel great. And don't compliment me. Cheerleading doesn't suit you."

For a moment, he looked like he was going to continue his lecture, but he paused instead when he caught her last words. She gave him a halfhearted smile. He shook his head in disbelief. "You're a piece of work. You know what? Make it up to me. Go back to school."

The smile quickly turned into a scowl. "Why should you care about that?"

"Because I don't want to see the girl whose life I saved twice throw it away."

Her expression thawed a fraction. "How do you know I haven't done that already?"

"What? Your record? I saw it, and I can guarantee mine is way worse."

She felt a faint sense of surprise, though only faint. She glared at the carpet, as if doing so would burn the painful memories that were eager to climb to the surface. "You don't know what it's like," she spat.

"How would you know that?"

She slowly raised her eyes from the ground. They lingered on the many tattoos the ghost had. The ink started at his fingers and climbed his arms. More curled up from the collar of his shirt to become visible on his neck, hinting that there were probably a lot more she couldn't see. She wouldn't hesitate to guess that there wasn't an inch of skin on his body that wasn't marked. They had to have been painful, though maybe that was the point. Pain to mark a life full of pain.

He turned away from her gaze, his expression hard to read. She wondered if it was regret. "You're a better kid than I was," he murmured. Yeah, that kind of sounded like regret.

"Ronan," she began. She struggled to find the right words. "I...I'm glad I met you. And not...not just because you saved me."

He looked at her in surprise. A smile slowly touched his lips. He chuckled. "And I'm glad you didn't die. Even if I did have to put up with a bitchy teen."

She rolled her eyes, but figured that was as close as she was going to get to kind, heartfelt words from the dead cop. She supposed they were in his own way. The smirk that accompanied his teasing only seemed to prove it.

She smirked back at him and held out her hand. With a laugh, he passed his own back and forth through hers, just like she had done when they first met.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, "but I'd rather not see you again for a really long time."

"What? You think I've become attached to you or something?"

He chuckled again. "No. Though it wouldn't hurt for you to rely on someone else from time to time. Even a ghost. We're not all that bad."

"Are we done with the lectures, _Mom?_ I'm beginning to think that maybe you've become attached to me."

"God forbid."

An uncomfortable silence ensued. There was nothing really left to say, and there was no delaying what was about to happen. Joy, having had no experience with such things, wasn't sure what to do. She could sense Ronan's hesitation as well.

"Well," she said, "tell your wife hello for me."

Something changed in his expression, and she saw something in his face she had never seen before. Was it happiness? Hope? "Thank you. Joy," he added after a heartbeat, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

Not liking this prolonged goodbye, she said, "Don't keep her waiting on my account."

He held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding and walking towards the door. He abruptly paused. With a glance back at her, he tipped his hat with a grin. "See you on the other side, kid."

And then he was gone.

"Thank you, Ronan," she whispered.

Even though the room was empty, she still got the sense that he had somehow heard.

 


	4. Family

"Are you Joy Foster?"

Joy straightened with a jolt, nearly falling out of her chair. She hadn't noticed the ghost approach.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said with a thick Boston accent. He wore a police uniform and was completely bald with blue eyes. _Eye._ He only had one eye. There was only dried blood in the socket where his right eye was supposed to be. "Thank God you're alright. You know Cassandra was giving me hell trying to find you?"

"Baxter," she whispered, barely moving her lips. She slumped back in her chair, lowered her head, and kept her eyes trained on her hands. It was all too easy to resume the tired pose she had been maintaining. Last she had checked, the wall clock had read just before five AM. She felt like she could barely stay awake, yet she doubted she could fall asleep if she tried.

Kai had needed to go back to work and could no longer watch her, so they had moved her into a room filled with officers and desks. Though Robinson and a few others sat nearby, no one paid much attention to her. Maybe they guessed she wouldn't run. Or maybe they didn't care anymore if she did. Either way, she was glad for the lack of attention. It would be hard to explain away talking to nothing.

"Where were you?"

"Where were you?" she hissed back. "I was looking for you. Well, not _you,_ but you know what I mean."

"Your mom was at a safe house outside of town. _You_ were supposed to be at the apartment or the station."

"I was at the apartment, but a crazy ghost tossed Ronan out the window. And why would I go to the station? I don't trust cops."

"You found your mom's note, didn't you? You weren't _actually_ supposed to get the book; you were supposed to get caught. I was going to take you to the safe house as well."

Joy felt like she had been slapped. Her mom had...tricked her? Suddenly it all made sense. She had thought the book would lead her to her mom. It didn't. Ronan had guessed it would help them find the Killer. That it did, but her mom would never want her to chase after danger. But her mom knew that Joy could completely disappear when she didn't want to be found and would never go to the cops willingly. This made her almost impossible to find. The only reason Joy had risked coming out of hiding...was because the note had convinced her to.

Though she understood her mother's reasoning, the betrayal still stung. "Damn it, Mom," she muttered. And, after a pause, "Damn it, Ronan."

"Where'd that bastard get off to, anyway?" Baxter growled. "I want to kick his ass. Didn't tell me a thing. Just said, 'Go get Cassandra.' I nearly got eaten by those...those things!"

"He's gone. Probably moved on by now."

"Of course he did, that sonofabitch. Always out to save his own skin. I bet you thought it was funny to leave me stranded here, you dirty crook!" The last part seemed to be directed at the sky.

Joy, feeling faintly rubbed the wrong way, partially tuned him out. She found sudden interest in a loose thread on one of her gloves.

"I suppose it's not that bad," the ghost said with an abrupt change of attitude. "I went down swinging. It's an honor to die on the force. I wouldn't have had it any other way." His chest puffed up with pride.

She decided not to tell him that any punch he may have landed on the Bell Killer would've had no effect as the true Killer was not mortal. She began to wonder if he was glad to have found her, or if he was just glad to have found someone who could hear him. She suspected the latter.

Stewart hurried by with a foreboding look on his face. Baxter followed his progress questioningly. "What happened here?"

"The Bell Killer," she said simply.

"They got him?"

She subtly shook her head. "She's gone."

"She?"

"It's a long story."

He looked as if he wanted to ask more, but seemed to finally realize that she wasn't in the mood to talk. "Alright. I'll ask your mom about it later. I think I deserve an explanation." He glanced down at his new see-through form. "A really long explanation."

Joy rubbed her wrist, unable to bring herself to look at him. Another Bell Killer casualty. Even though Abigail was gone, the damage she had caused remained behind. She got the feeling it wouldn't go away anytime soon.

_One ghost did all this. What's to stop another one from doing the same?_

Something in Baxter's voice changed. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I, uh...I'm gonna go make sure they didn't touch my stuff."

She wanted to stop him, but he was already walking away. She hadn't gotten to ask him about her mom, but she couldn't call after him without looking crazy. Instead, she refocused on her hands and rubbed halfheartedly at her glove. She truly would go crazy if she sat waiting any longer.

Joy sensed her before she saw her. And when the movement caught her eye, she almost didn't dare look up lest her hopes be crushed. Her breath caught in her throat.

Standing in the center of the room, hand raised to get her attention, was Cassandra Foster.

"Mom!" Joy stood, began to walk towards her, and then gave in and shot into her mother's arms.

Cassandra stumbled back slightly, but tightly embraced her. "Joy, my girl," she breathed. She kissed the top of her head. "Oh, my girl."

Joy had her eyes closed. It felt like a dream—like it was too good to be true. She breathed in her mom's scent. Her sweater smelled faintly musty, but she didn't care. Her mom was alive. Her mom was here.

Cassandra put her hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. "Let me look at you." She cupped her face with one hand, her silver eyes searching Joy's own. She frowned with concern and slid the hand down to her chin, gently tilting her head back.

Joy closed her eyes, not wanting to see her mother's expression. She still heard the sharp intake of breath.

"They...they told me something had happened, but I didn't know what." Cassandra released her chin. Joy opened her eyes. Her mom's expression could only be described as pained. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

Joy felt something break inside. "You couldn't have known," she said, repeating the words she had been told multiple times.

Her mom didn't seem to hear her. "I should've stayed with you. I shouldn't have tried to push you away. Then maybe none of this would've happened."

Joy grabbed her mother's hands. "Mom. Mom, I'm fine. I'm fine. I wasn't alone either. I had help."

Cassandra wove their fingers together and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. Then she took one hand and brushed Joy's bangs out of her eyes, her gaze filled with a loving tenderness Joy had forgotten she had been missing. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe. She could tell her mom everything that had happened—the truth, not a story confined to one dimension. She wasn't alone.

Joy's vision blurred, and she attempted to pull away in order to get control of herself again. Her eyes burned and her throat constricted. She blinked rapidly, focusing on taking deep breaths. Her mom let go of her other hand and gripped her shoulder, preventing her from pulling back. With the hand she had used to move her bangs, Cassandra slowly turned Joy's head to meet her eyes.

The tears spilled out, as did the words. "Father McCauley's dead. Ronan. Iris. So many people." Her breaths were coming in small gasps now. "They're all dead."

"Oh, darling." Her mom wrapped her arms around her and pulled her to her.

Joy, with her forehead against her mom's chest, attempted to choke back the tears, but the harder she fought, the faster they flowed. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, and she struggled to breathe.   
Cassandra held her as she cried, the whole time rubbing her back and making soothing sounds. It was as if she was a little kid again—sobbing because a ghost had chased her from the playground or because the other kids had refused to play with her. But she didn't care; she was just done. And that was okay because it was over.

It was over.

 

Little did she know that the nearby officers were secretly listening. Some of them had small smiles on their faces. Somehow they took the girl sobbing in her mother's arms as an omen—a sign that the darkness that plagued Salem had miraculously lifted. A few shook their heads, feeling ridiculous. There was still a killer on the loose. But something had changed. Something had actually gone right—for them. Maybe things were looking up after all.

Little did they know that they were right.

 

Joy quietly sniffled, finally having managed to get her breathing to slow. She heard her mom speak, her voice sounding like a rumble in the ear that was pressed against her chest. The words were not directed at her.

"Can I take my daughter home now, officer?" Though phrased like a question, her tone suggested there was only one right answer.

A male voice answered. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Your apartment is still a crime scene. We're in the process of cleaning it up, but it will require more time. Besides, it's not safe. We've arranged to take both of you to a safe house."

"Where?"

"Hotel Salem is the closest one. It's just across the parking lot."

"That's right next to the museum." The sharpness with which she spoke her words indicated that Cassandra did in fact know a few details about what had happened.

The officer hesitated before answering. "It will have to do for today. None of the others have been prepared, unless you want to make the trip out of town. Don't worry. The security is good, and we'll even send a few extra officers over there to keep an eye on things. You'll be perfectly safe."

"That's not what concerns me," she murmured.

"I know, ma'am. We're working as fast as we can."

"As long as it's just one night."

"One night. Meet me at the entrance when you're ready to go." Footsteps strode off.

Joy detached herself from her mom, now feeling belatedly embarrassed. She didn't dare look at any of the nearby desks.

Her mom reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Each with one arm around the other, they headed for the entrance. They passed Kai on their way there. He stood at a small desk, bending over a stack of papers with a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. His eyes lit up when he saw Joy, and he held up a fist when she neared him. She halfheartedly bumped her own against it. He gave her a mischievous look in response and ruffled her hair. She briefly held a hand up in farewell, deciding he wasn't so bad. She maybe even liked him.

 

The hotel room was small—maybe a third of the size of their apartment—but it had enough for a person to live in it. It had one bed, a kitchenette, a small bath, a desk, a futon, and a TV. Joy and Cassandra climbed onto the bed, but though they were both exhausted, neither went to sleep. They lost track of time as they talked, taking turns telling the other what they had been doing and what had happened. There were a lot of tears from both parties and moments so thick with emotion that there was no talking at all.

The sun was coming up by the time they had finished. Joy curled up against her mom, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. She had nearly fallen asleep when she felt the warmth leave her side. She blindly reached out to feel that the other side of the bed was empty.

"I'm just going to the lobby to get some breakfast," she heard her mom say.

"Don't leave," she murmured sleepily.

"Don't worry." Warm lips pressed against her head. "I'm never leaving you again."

The door clicked shut.

Joy burrowed under the blankets, feeling safe and warm. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to truly relax. She was still solid and breathing. She still had her family. Maybe everything would be alright.

With that thought, she began to drift off. Bathed in the light of the breaking dawn, she finally...

...fell asleep.

A new day was beginning in Salem.

And it was the day her nightmares began.

 


	5. A Few Hours Earlier

"I came over here as soon as I heard. Let it be known that the Salem Police Department has my full cooperation. I will personally assist the investigation in any way I can."

Though the chief curator seemed to exude a carefully crafted air of outrage and determination (with just a hint of horror), his pale face gave away his fear. His eyes kept flicking back to the shattered glass that littered the museum's lobby. The poorly covered emotion might have made him suspicious, that is, if the whole city wasn't already in a state of terror. No one could certainly blame him. The museum had already been caught awkwardly in the spotlight just a few weeks ago when the Shadows of Salem exhibit ended with the supposed suicide of one of the featured artists. Now with another hanging—near hanging—and a shooting to add to the mix...this wasn't going to look good for him.

Robinson and Johnson exchanged a weary glance. They had been on the move all night with this being the third crime scene in the last twelve hours. Both officers decided at the same time that they weren't getting paid enough for this. Not that they had signed up for this job for the money...

"What can you tell us about the museum's security?" Johnson asked.

Once again, they had found almost no evidence—nothing more than some bits of hemp rope and a recently burned incense stick. It felt like almost too much to hope for more.

Sure enough, after hesitating, the curator said, "We are in the process of upgrading our equipment. All the cameras are being replaced with newer technology."

"They were inactive?"

"No. No, all but one have been replaced and should have been up and running. There are also alarms on many of the exhibits as well as the doors. For reasons we cannot explain, they failed to work. The cameras recorded only static and the alarm didn't sound. I can get you in touch with the people in charge of that department. Perhaps they can figure out what happened. I'm afraid that's not my area of expertise."

"Were there only two security guards on duty tonight?" Robinson asked.

The curator winced. "Yes. As you can see, we're rather short staffed. Terribly tragic what happened."

"So we got nothing," Robinson muttered.

"Actually, that may not be true," the curator said. "I was wrong to imply that _all_ the cameras didn't work. What I should have said is that only the newer cameras didn't work. The single old one we have yet to replace appears to have kept recording. _And_ it is pointed right at the gallows."

"It recorded what happened?" Johnson asked quickly.

"From what I can tell. My staff only verified that it continued to work at the time of the...incident. They didn't watch what happened, and neither did I. We agreed to let you look at it first."

"Can you show us the footage?" Robinson said, also struggling to maintain his patience.

"Right this way."

This was huge. No one had witnessed a Bell Killer attack and lived to tell about it—or at least not with their mind intact. This could prove Rex's innocence...or his guilt.

The curator led them to a small, poorly-lit room barely bigger than broom closet. A desk covered in old monitors was somehow crammed into it. Unopened boxes of what looked like newer computers were pushed against the wall. A scruffy young man who appeared to be just out of his teens perched on a chair, nervously tapping his fingers on the desk. He nearly fell off his seat when they walked in.

"Carl, do you have it?" the curator asked.

The kid silently handed him a small, rectangular box. The curator passed it to Johnson. It was an old tape.

The curator looked sheepish. "As I said, we're in the middle of upgrading. You can watch it here if you like. The system to play it is there, and it should come on that monitor."

"You've done this before," Robinson commented.

"Sadly, it's not the first time I've had to review footage. I hope you find what you're looking for."

"So do we," Johnson said. "Thank you, Mr. Creed."

"I'll leave you gentlemen to it. Come on, Carl."

The curator and the young man hurried out, closing the door behind them. Robinson took the chair while Johnson remained standing.

"You ready for this, Robinson?"

"Mm. Let's see what we can find out about our large, hooded friend."

Johnson put the tape in the system and a symbol appeared on one of the monitors. The recording started to play. The camera was in fact aimed at the gallows from the direction of the front wall. He found the controls and began to fast forward the video to roughly the time of the attack. People dashed around the room for a while before the lights went out and the museum was empty.

"Woah, woah!" Robinson exclaimed. "Back up, back up!"

"I see it," Johnson breathed as he hurried to rewind. He then set it to play at normal speed.

A tall figure wearing a dark hoodie walked into the shot from the right. Draped over his shoulder was a much smaller figure with dark reddish-brown hair. The Bell Killer unceremoniously dumped the girl onto the gallows. She didn't move, apparently unconscious.

"So that's the girl," Johnson said. "Where's Rex?"

Robinson frowned. "Something's not right. Look at the time." He pointed at a row of numbers in the corner of the screen. "This took place almost a half hour before we got the call."

"Well, we don't know how long the whole thing lasted."

"True," he acknowledged, though he sounded uncertain.

The dark figure bent over the girl, testing her bonds. He straightened again, sliding off his hood. In shock, Johnson hit pause just as the figure glanced in the direction of the camera.

It was Rex.

"Holy shit," Johnson breathed.

Robinson added a few more colorful things before saying, "No. No, it can't be Rex. I've known him for years. There's no way he would do this."

"Are you sure you know him that well? 'Cause that looks a lot like him to me. And it fits, doesn't it? The way we've found almost no evidence."

"But to kill random girls? To kill Ronan?"

"I'm just...I'm just gonna hit play."

"Yeah."

They watched as Rex lit the incense stick and held it under the girl's nose. She sat up, coughing. Though she was slow to get her bearings, it was obvious the moment she realized what was going on, for a look of terror overcame her. Rex hauled her to her feet and they spoke to each other. The wicked expressions that showed on Rex's face were something he had never made before. The girl attempted to show defiance, but her fear was palpable.

"Tough little thing," Johnson commented. "I don't know if she's brave or stupid."

Rex shifted closer to her and she looked up at him, eyes wide. Suddenly, she glanced beyond her captor and leaned forward while shouting. Rex whirled around to face the same direction. His eyes on something out of sight of the camera, he spoke while wearing a warning look. He appeared to be arguing with somebody, and was getting worked up over it. At one point, he roared while roughly shaking the girl for emphasis.

The two officers exchanged a glance. What was going on?

The two security guards ran in from the direction Rex and the girl had been facing. They stopped before the gallows and pointed their guns at Rex. For a moment, no one moved. Then a pained expression came over Rex and he fell to his knees, causing the girl to fall as well. Less than a second after that, one of the guards _shot_ the other in the head before turning his gun on himself. Rex rose, yanking the girl back up, and the guards lay on the floor—dead.

"Holy shit!"

"What the _hell_ just happened?"

They were too stunned to stop the recording, and it kept playing. Rex raised his hand in the air, muttering, before slipping the noose over the terrified girl's head. She looked past him and shouted once again. He adjusted the rope and then put his hand on the lever with a smirk. The girl leaned forward and opened her mouth wide in a scream silent in the soundless video. Abruptly, Rex collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Pause...pause it!" Robinson gasped out.

With pale face Johnson did as he said.

"What in God's name is _that?_ "

Robinson pointed at the screen. A little distance away from gallows was a blurry blue shape, like a patch of fog...except it was shaped like a small girl.

"Please tell me you see that too."

"Y-yeah. I see it."

"Wait a sec. Back it up to the shooting. A little further...there. Now slow it down."

"My God..." Johnson crossed himself.

"I...I've never seen...not in my life..."

They watched it again. As Rex fell to his knees in slow motion, what looked like a faint blue light shot from him to one of the security guards. After the guard went crazy, the light shot back to Rex and he climbed to his feet.

"Robinson, what's going on?"

"Just...just keep watching."

They got the video back to where they'd left off. The girl, who looked close to passing out, suddenly tensed while staring at the blue shape. The fog flickered, getting fainter and fainter until they couldn't see it anymore. The girl exploded into action as she struggled to get the noose off. After a few moments of getting nowhere, the rope slipped free and she fell down with a look of surprise. She proceeded to violently rip her bonds off and toss them away. It then seemed as if she was watching something. A red light flashed from nowhere. She closed her eyes.

"Why not run? What's she doing?" Johnson murmured.

The girl opened her eyes again and looked around. She moved her mouth as if speaking to someone. Rex sat up, clearly disoriented, and looked at her in concern. She recoiled at first, but quickly calmed down. Rex looked around and adopted an expression of shock and distress, running a hand through his hair. The girl spoke to him for some time, and he listened with surprise and confusion while occasionally making a comment of his own. As time passed, she began to make more exaggerated gestures, showing frustration, while his expression revealed growing disbelief.

"She's not scared of him."

"I wish I knew what they were saying. You ever get the hang of lip-reading?"

"No. Trust me, I've been trying, but I can't get more than a few...hang on."

"See something?"

"Maybe. Let me back it up...okay, right here. You see when his expression changes? Something's 'impossible.' And here he says just a single word—a name: 'Ronan.'"

"Ronan? Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Look, watch how she reacts when he says it."

As Johnson had pointed out, the girl relaxed, showing obvious relief. Rex looked uncertain, but as they continued talking he appeared to regard her differently—maybe even with something akin to respect. However, her behavior became increasingly odd, and she would sometimes speak while looking in a different direction, as if there was someone else besides the two of them. Rex looked uncomfortable when she did this and would stare in the same direction, but he always seemed...disappointed when he did so.

Eventually they stopped talking and both looked towards the area to the right of the camera. The girl muttered something and crawled closer to Rex. Like someone had flipped a switch, she quickly adopted a distressed position as he took on a protective one. At that moment, Johnson and his team ran into the scene.

Back on the other side of the screen, Johnson stopped the video. He ran a hand through his dirty-blond hair. "Well, this is a new one."

"I think that's the understatement of the century."

"What do we do? This is very damning evidence. Do we turn it in?"

"No! If we turn it in, then Rex will be found guilty."

"We're you watching that? He is guilty."

"Maybe, but you know that there's something going on here that we don't understand."

"If we get caught withholding evidence, we could lose our jobs."

"If Rex goes to jail, he could lose his life. All those guys he's put behind bars—they hate him. We can't condemn him to that without finding out more first."

"You don't have to convince me, Robinson. This is our lieutenant we're talking about. I'm just making sure you've weighed the risks before we get in over our heads."

"Yeah, I have."

"Alright then."

Johnson ejected the tape just as the door opened. The curator poked his head in.

"I just came to check if you got everything working okay."

Johnson held up the tape. "Do you have any backups?"

"For that one? Unfortunately no. It's part of the reason we decided to replace the security equipment. Did you see what happened?"

"No. It seems the camera was working, but the footage of the attack is missing or corrupted somehow," he lied with ease. It was kind of scary.

"Really? I can have Carl take a look at it."

"No, it's quite alright. We have to take it back to the station anyway. We can get some guys to look at it there."

"Oh, alright. Feel free to keep it. Otherwise, it will probably just go to the archives and never be seen again."

"It will probably be the same case with us," Robinson said lightly. "I think that's everything. We should go about getting out of your way as soon as possible."

"Eh, take your time. I doubt the museum will be open for a while."

"Thanks again for your help, Mr. Creed."

"Have a good day, gentlemen."

There was a tense silence between the two officers as they tried not to hurry outside. When they cleared the entrance to be bathed in flashing red and blue lights, they both let out sighs of relief. Neither wanted to set foot inside that museum again if they could help it.

"Hey, Robinson? I need a vacation. A really _long_ vacation."

"So do I, Johnson. So do I."

"I'm assuming you have a plan?"

"We still have to do our jobs. You stay here and see what else you can find."

"What about you?"

"I'm going back to the station. There's someone I need to have a chat with..."

 

_The end..._

_...of the beginning_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, London here! So that was definitely not one of the best things I've written, in more ways than one. However, as you can see, it serves as a setup for a book that I'm writing. It features characters from the game, including Joy, Cassandra, and Rex, but mostly contains original characters, including Kai and a new ghost named Angel. I promise that the book will be better written and more believable. I will be posting it here when I'm done, but unlike with this, only after I've gone through several drafts. Anyway, stick around. Or not. I'm not the boss of you.


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